


The Long Road Home

by Petros Sabbatios Iustinian (Basileus)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Canonical Character Death, F/F, F/M, Female Jon Snow, Female Protagonist, House Baratheon, House Lannister, House Stark, House Targaryen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-01-20 07:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1502489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basileus/pseuds/Petros%20Sabbatios%20Iustinian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stories of another world where Jon Snow is born a girl with violet eyes and Ashara Dayne births a son instead of a stillborn daughter.</p><p>Or a quest by two bastards to find a place to call home, while trying to understand who they are. Escaping the Game of Thrones however is impossible, and in the end, you either win or you die.</p><p>Even if that involves kinslaying or unleashing the beast within.</p><p>(Previously called-Road to the Throne-please read the note at the first chapter if you are a returning reader)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Origins I: The Star

**Author's Note:**

> Before I am accused of plagiarism-let me make it clear that I am BASILEUS. I am using a second pseud for this story to avoid possible confusion from some later stuff. 
> 
> This story was originally supposed to be a rewrite of 'First of Her Name', but my brain had other ideas-causing this story to evolve and grow on its own. The first two chapters have not been edited, as the story is essentially the same there. Beyond though, let us see what happens. This should be fairly long (although I cannot make promises about regularity of updates-RL is a bitch). 
> 
> Multiple POVs and plenty of disturbing language, content, blood and gore. Please desist from continuing if that does not suit you. Though it took a dead father for Sansa to get it, she finally did understand that monsters win in real life.
> 
> Several popular characters will be butchered (in the literary sense). I have zero desire to adhere to popular fan portrayals and will write about each character as I think the POV character sees them. Protracted comment wars about how Cat/Bob/Hodor have been 'wrongly' portrayed in a fanfiction (where initial conditions diverged fourteen years before canon) can of course happen, but the author's responses will be guided by whim, and are not guaranteed. Please keep in mind that each POV will be biased by the perspective of the POV character itself, before rushing in to defend the 'wrongfully assaulted'. 
> 
> If you are still here, please read. If you like it, a kudos will be appreciated. If you want to say something (logical error, spelling, internal inconsistency, messed up dates, suggestions, or just that you like it) please comment. Reader feedback has made me a better writer (I hope) and I would be sad to see it dry up. The semi-fascist guidelines above are not (in principle) present to block criticism, but exist for simply filtering rants about how I have done great injustice to some character or the other.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ' In any case, we will see who was right when your fool drinks himself to death two decades down the road. You or Jon Arryn should have taken the throne, for it was the two of you who got the men to fight, who had to buy Hoster Tully’s girls to prevent losing the entire Riverlands.’

_Prologue:_

_Eddard Stark_

_283AL, Starfall._

‘So you want me to pretend to be her mother?’

Eddard nodded, barely daring to glance up at Ashara to see her expression. ‘I don’t have any other choice.’ _Not with those violet eyes, no matter how much she looks like Lya otherwise._

‘I can certainly dispute that, plenty of Lyseni whores around with Valyrian features. Although, I suppose it will be easier to go with me, after all we do have quite a public past and the story of my _dishonor_ is already sung across the Seven Kingdoms.’

‘Ashara—‘

‘I made my bed Ned, and it’s my time to sleep on it. We were not betrothed, and I had the choice to take Moon tea.’

‘If Brandon hadn’t –‘choked Ned.

‘But he did, and you chose honor. I cannot blame you for that, Arthur made the same choice and wound up dead.’

Thoughts of the late Ser Arthur Dayne were most unwelcome at the moment, but he forced himself to look at the man’s sister at the face. ‘Will you do it?’

‘I owe the dead as much. But you are not getting the boy, he stays with me.’

‘But Winterfe—‘

‘Is not his home. Your wife had a son by the way, congratulations. We all know the story of Daemon Blackfyre, and the Redgrass field. That is not a fate I wish for my son and that’s why we must leave.’

‘Leave?’

‘To Essos. If we stay, there will always be people who will want to use him against your boy. Besides, there will be too many rumors about why you took only one bastard back, as I presume you were not planning to leave her with me.’

He nodded; he was not going to leave Visen-no- _Joanna_ here in Dorne. That would not be what Lyanna wanted. _The Dornish can use her to play their games._

‘Smart move, I’m not sure how long we could keep the story up under intense interrogation. Besides, we don’t want to give Doran a new Queen, do we?’

He looked at her in surprise, he was more afraid of that Elia’s brothers would unite the Three heads of the Dragon, should they discover about Lyanna’s daughter.

Ashara laughed, and laughed hard, though there was a manic edge to it. ‘You didn’t know, did you?’

‘Know what?’

‘Elia and Oberyn had a bit more in common than you would think.’

‘What has that got to do with anything?’

‘Are you aware of, _ah, Oberyn’s preferences?’_

All the rumors he had heard about the Viper flooded to his mind. ‘Are you suggesting—‘

‘Elia was as involved in this as Rhaegar. She even got Oberyn to take Lyanna’s maiden-cloak off, seeing that there were no Starks available.’

‘She was just fifteen!!’ he yelled.

‘And was about to be married off in a few months!!’ screamed Ashara. ‘The hypocrisy of you Northerners shocks me to the core. You could expect her to get married and have babies at that age, but not make decisions about her life?’

He had to fall silent, because the barb had hit close home, if only because of the consequences of Lyanna running off.

‘We Dornish do not act this way, our women have choice,’ spoke Ashara Dayne. ‘Elia quite liked Lyanna in Harrenhall, and prevailed over Rhaegar.’

‘Lyanna would not—‘

‘Says the man who was away at the Vale for half her life. Although I am not sure it made a difference anyways, seeing the understanding exhibited by Brandon and Lord Rickard.’

His temper flared up as he jumped up, ‘Do not dare speak that way about my family!’

‘I will speak however I feel like!! Do not forget you now stand in Dorne and I have enough men to reunite you and Reed with your sister!’

He collapsed back, knowing the truth in her words. _Dorne can secede if it wanted to, and we can do nothing. The threat of Robert will not stop the Daynes from killing me should they desire. Prince Doran has a boy he can marry a Targaryen Princess to, and it will all end._

‘Aerys—‘he tried.

‘Was mad, we don’t dispute that. Which was why this union was necessary. He was getting suspicious of Rhaegar, and Elia could not have more children. If anything happened to Aegon, we would have ended up with Viserys on the throne.’

‘You did end up with Viserys,’ he noted, with savage pleasure.

‘I wish we had, we wound up with Robert instead. Lyanna had told Elia all about him you see, and I heard enough to realize that the second coming of Aegon the Unworthy now graces the Iron Throne. Another reason I must leave, for I cannot bear to remain in a Westros where Robert Baratheon sits on Rhaegar’s throne, stained with the blood of Aegon, Rhaenys and Elia.’

‘The Targaryens were mad to begin with, it’s no great loss.’

‘Torrhen thought differently enough. In any case, we will see who was right when your fool drinks himself to death two decades down the road. You or Jon Arryn should have taken the throne, for it was the two of you who got the men to fight, who had to buy Hoster Tully’s girls to prevent losing the entire Riverlands.’

‘I have no desire to be King,’ he said, and it was nothing but the truth.

‘What about honourable Lord Arryn?’

‘Jon does not either, and besides he is too old-he does not have a son for one.’

‘Whereas Robert has what, eight? Nine? A dozen? Hardly matters though, neither of you could have prevented the inevitable anyways, merely delayed it.’

‘The inevitable?’

‘ The collapse and disintegration of the Seven Kingdoms. The Targaryens built the Seven Kingdoms and it will be unmade soon enough without them. There is no Jaehaerys I, no Daeron II, nothing of worth that can come out of that line of savages that cannot read and the realm shall bleed again. But I don’t care, we Dornish will be free by then, and the rest of the realm can go to hell for all I care.’

‘So you want to crown Viserys?’

‘I want to crown no one; my allegiance was to Rhaegar and Elia, not to the realm. Now that they are dead, I simply wish to move on, after I am sure _Visenya_ is safe. Under normal circumstances, I would want her to rule, but these are hardly normal times and safety comes first.’

‘You should give her to me, you know. She would be safest in Essos, where those eyes are not rare. It is not easy being a female bastard in Westros, not even in Dorne. Your wife would be happier too,’ finished Ashara Dayne.

‘And let you unite with loyalists and wage war?’

‘I certainly understand why you distrust me so, very well, have it your way.’

‘Just like that?’

‘I want her to be safe. Killing you and handing her over to Doran is not the best way to go about that.’

‘People will talk about you vanishing. ‘

‘They will find my dress in the sea, and no body. Alayne knows of my plan and he has reluctantly accepted it. The rest will think it was because you killed my brother and took my child away from me. No one outside Starfall knows the gender, making this easier for us. Farewell Ned, I hope we never meet again.’


	2. Origins II: Fight and Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘It is funny, but I now envy my sister.’
> 
> ‘For what?’
> 
> ‘For having a son who thought with his brain and not his cock.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for disappearing. Real life was a bitch. Anyway, I have the story planned out (just need to write it down now), and hope to do regular updates, Not as fast as before, but not too slow either.
> 
> Read a fantastic story about Alternate lives of Jon Snow (http://archiveofourown.org/works/1716653/chapters/3656843- by Caitlinlaurie) that gave me a few ideas. My style may or may not evolved as well, so if anyone has stuck around -read and review please :)
> 
> Explanations at the end. A lot of things in this story are different from Weirwood though, including family ties. So do not use that as a reference.

**POV: Alyn Velaryon.**

**Year:284AL**

‘How many ships could be salvaged?’ asked the Queen, looking up from the map on the table.

‘Only three fit for battle, all were kept in the cave harbor. Not enough to engage them at sea’, replied the Master of Ships.

‘Ser Gerold,’ the Queen said, turning to face the old Lord Commander, ‘what are our chances if we must engage them on land?’

‘Not too good, Your Grace. We have the numbers, but I am uncertain of loyalties. The men from Driftmark can be trusted, but I am worried about those from King’s Landing. The Usurper holds the City and their families.’

‘Yet we can hardly afford to attempt to disarm them and risk mutiny. Very well, so be it. Simply plan accordingly, as much as possible. Do we have spare armor or weapons?’

‘Not too many Your Grace. The supplies were held off by the storm.’

‘Or the Usurper. Either way, it does not matter now. Just get the smallfolk into the Keep, and ask them to bring whatever weapons they own.’

‘There is one other thing you can do’, ventured the Master of Ships, ‘and that is flee. One of the three ships is equipped with the _siphon_ and we have enough liquid to hold the Usurper’s dogs at bay. We can be at Braavos within a week, and live to fight another day.’

‘Tell me Alyn, do we have enough space in those ships for all the smallfolk on this island?’

The Master of Ships’ face hardened. ‘This is not the time fo-‘

‘I will not abandon those who served my family loyally for a millennium. I will not stop you from leaving Alyn, should that be your wish. In fact I will not stop any of you, Ser Willem, Ser Gerold, Ser Oswell. Consider all your vows fulfilled, and board the ship to the East.’

‘That is very idealistic, Aunt Rhaella,’ sneered the Master of Ships, ‘but you should think twice before making Viserys a sacrifice on the altar of your honor. Just give him to me, and you can enjoy the amenities to be offered by the usurper’s dogs.’

‘The King will stay with his people Alyn. If the smallfolk here must suffer as the poor did when Tywin’s men pillaged King’s Landing, then we must endure alongside. _Valar dohaeris_.’

‘As we all, Your Grace’, said Ser Oswell, sneering at Lord Alyn. ‘No one will touch you as long as there is breath in our body.’

‘Which need not be very long’, muttered Lord Velaryon before speaking loudly. ‘Tell me Sers, have you heard from your dear colleague in Dorne, where you left him with the little girl?’

Ser Gerold’s face whitened-‘Arthur knows his duty, and Lord Dayne promised more men to defend the Tower. It must have only been the storm-‘

‘There was no communication for quite some time before the clouds gathered. Let’s be realistic here, Dayne is dead and so are his men. The Stark girl is dead too, either from the disease or thanks to her ‘honorable’ brother. I am willing to bet a dragon that we will meet the King’s youngest niece on the other side too.’

‘You presume too much, Lord Alyn!’ roared Ser Gerold.

‘The truth hurts, doesn’t it Ser Gerold? You and Whent would have been dead too, if the baby was born a boy and was our King. After all, The Kingsguard cannot flee, no matter how logical that step is. You would have just died at the Tower and been useless, as useless as you are now on Dragonstone!’

‘You seem very confident about your usefulness, Lord Alyn. However, your younger brother was stupid enough to get captured at the Trident. Perhaps we should detain you to eliminate any risk of treachery!’ spoke Oswell Whent.

‘ENOUGH!’ roared Rhaella Targaryen. ‘Get out, get out all of you and do your jobs! Except you Alyn, as you have none anyways. Stay here and pour all your feelings out!’

‘Your Grace,’ Ser Willem Darry said nervously, looking at Alyn Velaryon.

‘You heard me, Ser Willem. That was an order!’

The knights shot a dirty look at him, but he could not care less. They were slow to leave as well, especially Ser Oswell, but they did depart and left him with the Queen.

‘You can leave, you know. I will not stop you or hold you here for a suicide mission’, spoke Rhaella Targaryen after a long pause.

‘You know perfectly well that I will not leave you and Viserys here.’

‘I am sorry, Alyn.’

‘One death might be a tragedy, but I think the realm is saturated with those. The four of us will simply be a statistic,’ he said, gesturing at her stomach.

‘And so it all ends. Although, the usurper may spare your brother on account of his youth and the fact he poses little threat to his claim. Or Jon Arryn might convince him to.’

‘We Valyrians relying on the mercy of others? How the mighty have fallen!’

‘How indeed! If Arthur was here, I would have still had hope.’

‘Fools hope again. What I said is almost certainly true.’

‘I know Alyn. Damn Rhaegar, damn Elia just damn them all! What do the lusts of mortal men matter before the duty to the realm? And all three of them are dead, leaving their burden on our backs.’

Privately, Alyn thought that Elia at least had not deserved her ending, but he was not going to venture that opinion. The Queen was on the verge of madness for weeks, _it must be the child._ ‘House Targaryen ends with you and Viserys.’

‘It need not Alyn. I was not jesting when I asked you to run and save yourself. I might find some solace in knowing that my sister’s son still lives.’

 _It would be your son who would continue to live, if I was not certain that you would have me chopped should I attempt to kidnap him._ ‘If your duty is to the smallfolk, then mine is to serve you. And then there will be none.’

‘I wish Selena had lived longer,’ spoke the Queen, a wistful look on her face.

 _So do I, for then I would have a real mother._ Selena Velaryon had died in the birthing bed, leaving him to be raised by her brother and sister, as her broken husband retreated into his study. ‘How was she?’

‘Kind, far kinder than I could ever hope to be. The best elder sister one could ask for, and she might have been the only person Aerys listened to.’

That he could believe, for his Uncle had always been affectionate towards him, even after his descent to madness after Duskendale. His advice might not have been heeded, but he was brushed off with a smile. _And that made me blind, and cost me Rhaegar’s trust. If only I had known…._

‘It is funny,’ the Queen continued ‘but I now envy my sister.’

‘For what?’ _Not being married to Aerys?_

‘For having a son who thought with his brain and not his cock.’

‘Oh.’ That was certainly an unusual assessment, for his reputation with the ladies in the Red Keep would suggest otherwise. _But I did not bring a Kingdom down._ ‘I think I should now go help with the defenses.’

‘You will not even wait for some tea?’ the Queen asked, as her handmaiden entered with a tray of food.

 _The girl is not half so bad looking. But duty before pleasure._ ‘I am afraid I cannot. I know Dragonstone better than Ser Gerold or Ser Willem’, he said, rising from his chair.

‘Best of luck. And remember the succession, Alyn.’

‘What?!’, he turned to face her.

‘Should anything happen to Viserys, you will be free to do exactly as you wish.’

‘If this is some suggesti-‘

‘I am no kinslayer, Alyn. Rest assured that I am merely contemplating a hypothetical scenario.’

 _It better be._ ‘I hope that it never comes to pass.’

‘So do I.’

Lord Alyn Velaryon turned around and walked out, refusing to look back and see what his aunt had become.

* * *

‘How does the battle go, Ser Gerold?’, Alyn Velaryon asked the Knight they both ran back into the living room. The dozen men that followed quickly started to move the furniture to block the entrance, but that was unlikely to last very long.

Ser Gerold glared at him in anger, and for once Alyn could not blame the man completely. A significant chunk of the mainland troops had turned against them as feared, and the battle had turned for the worse. Their men had tried, tried their very best but to no avail. They had been forced to beat a retreat after Ser Willem had fallen, and the Baratheon men had started to pour into the Keep.

‘If you love your King, Ser Gerold, you will have to listen to me now. There is no chance we can win this. You and Oswell will have to constrain her, and I will seize Viserys. The ship with the _siphon_ is ready to depart the moment it needs be, from the secret harbor. We can still survive this.’

Gerold Hightower nodded reluctantly. Three weeks of the siege had broken him much more effectively than any words could. ‘I only hope Oswell sees the sense in this’, whispered the Lord Commander.

‘Only one way to find out’, Alayne said, walking to the doors of the private chambers and knocking. ‘Aunt Rhaella?’

There was no response and his brow furrowed. ‘Aunt Rhaella, Ser Oswell, SER OSWELL!’ screamed Lord Velaryon, as he started shaking the knob.

Ser Gerold and his men pushed him aside as they attacked the door. Another time Alyn would have been disappointed with how fast the hard teak door gave way, but this time he was struck speechless by the macabre sight that befell him. Ser Oswell and the Queen were both sitting on the chairs, blood flowing from their slit necks. The handmaiden was standing in front of the bed, where something was struggling.

Alyn ran faster than he could ever imagined he could and his sword found her back easily. Yet he was too late, for Viserys had already gone limp by the time he pulled the pillow off.

‘She must have drugged their tea,’ Ser Gerold noted, looking dazed.

_Fools we were to have not thought about this woman. I wonder what she wanted, the jewelry or rewards comparable to what Lannisters got for killing Aegon and Rhaenys._

‘Its over’, Ser Gerold said as he slowly knelt on the floor.

 _Not yet,_ he thought as he pulled the Lord Commander to his feet and dragged him along, the rest of the men following. Afterwards he could barely recall the journey through the secret passageways of the Castle, till they reached the secret cave harbor that had protected their three ships from the storm.

‘Set sail now!’ he screamed, as the crew moved into action, realizing the battle was lost.

They had barely made it into the sea when they were sighted. Several of the Baratheon ships were patrolling the waters, and they started giving chase. _Stannis must have thought of this._

‘It is raining’, Ser Gerold noted, looking at the skies like a drunk and dazed man. ‘The gods have abandoned us as there cannot be any fire.’

_On the contrary, this is the first time fortune has smiled upon us. You could not have planned for this, Stannis._

‘Fire the _siphon.’_

It was a sight Alyn Velaryon had read descriptions about, and had seen on small scales, but never on these proportions. The night turned to day as the entire sea turned into an inferno of flames. The Baratheon ships were not built keeping this form of warfare in mind, and Alyn could see all of them burn. _Try to flee, little birds, but the film of oil will chase you as will the fire from the depths of hell._

‘How?’, whispered Ser Gerold. ‘How can it burn on touching water?’

‘Some will it call it sorcery, others ancient wisdom. I prefer innovation. The greatest discovery by House Velaryon to compensate the lack of dragons.’

‘But there was no flint, no spark…’

‘It burns on touching water. Even air too, but it is dissolved in oil to prevent that from happening. It is sprayed into the seas, for the water to set it aflame, and light the oil as well. Guaranteed to decimate any foe.’

‘But we do not burn?’

‘You expected a civilization relying on dragons to not have thought of that, Lord Gerold? Pity.’

‘Where now, Admiral?’ asked a crewman.

‘Braavos.’

‘No, we cannot!’, screamed Gerold. ‘Turn back, we can use this to burn them all!!’

‘We do not have enough, Ser! And I command you to compose yourself and stop acting in a fashion unbecoming of a knight.’

‘You command me?’ replied the defiant knight.

‘Need I remind you who is King now?’

Realization dawned on Ser Gerold’s eyes, as he hastily bowed. ‘Apologies, Your Grace. I was-‘

‘Accepted.’

‘Braavos then? We will need to contact the Iron Bank for securing loans for hiring mercenaries.’

‘No.’

‘What?’

‘Its over Ser Gerold. We lost. I am not going to continue playing this futile game and endanger my half-brother. If I stay silent, he will get to live and might even be allowed to hold Driftmark.’

‘But then why Braavos, Your Grace?’

‘The siphon is a rather useful tool. I have contacts in the city, and I think my services might be appreciated by navy. To help trade dominance, and outmaneuver Volantis.’

‘They will kill you the moment you reveal the recipe.’

‘Who says I will? We got by for a century without a need to teach people how to make it after all. The plant in Driftmark will not work if someone does not know what to do with it.’

‘It is still a dangerous game, Your Grace. The dogs of the usurper will be after us.’

‘I spent five years in Braavos, Ser Gerold. I can assure you I have contacts there that can take on the usurper’s knives.’

‘The Faceless men are based in that city an-‘

‘And they will never go against the interest of the City itself. Those are the defenders I am placing my trust in, Ser Gerold-for there is no alternative. Baratheon will sent men to Asshai itself should I run there.’

‘Look East Ser Gerold, see the red sun now climbing up. See it as an opportunity and not an exile. Besides, for me it is a homecoming of sorts, a return back to the lands of the Valyrian Freehold.’

* * *

Admiral Alyn Velaryon looked at his new outfit, and frowned. Ser Gerold was trying very hard to not suppress a smirk. _He has not yet forgiven me for not telling him that I am friends with the Sealord._ But the opportunity had not truly arisen, until they had sailed into Braavos itself and had visited the Sealord in his Palace. His place in the navy was now secure, and the manufacture of liquid fire was to begin in a week. Although, he certainly did not like his new uniform at all.

‘Will it be safe to walk through the harbor today?’, he asked at the fat man who was supposed to wait on him.

‘Of course, Your Honor,’ the Faceless man replied with a smile. ‘Braavos is a very safe City.’

 _Let’s test that theory today._ ‘I want some salt air today, before I need to take off for my first assignment.’ A minor one, to the North of the Wall. There were thoughts of forming a colony there to supply the City with timber, and he was being sent to check it out. _Should be exciting,_ he thought drily as he and Ser Gerold walked into the harbor.

But his thoughts about his mission in Westeros disappeared the moment he saw a familiar face in the crowd. Both he and Ser Gerold threw caution to the wind and ran. The person in question noticed them too, and to their relief did not attempt to hide, but rather moved forward.

‘Ashara? What are you doing here?’ _And that too with an infant._

‘Long story Alyn, but why are you and Ser Gerold here? Unless…..’

Alyn nodded, and Ashara bowed her head. ‘It would be unsafe for you to stay elsewhere, to be honest, even without a small child. You should join us in our quarters.’

‘I am supposed to be dead, Alyn.’

‘Well then, hair-dye is fairly cheap here. And you owe me an explanation about a lot of things, starting with the events in Dorne.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Children of Jaehaerys II Targaryen- Selena Velaryon nee Targaryen, Aerys and Rhaella Targaryen (birth order).
> 
> Selena's son- Alyn. Alyn has a half-brother, Monterys. Alyn is three years senior to Rhaegar, but still a bachelor who tries to charm women. Am trying to model him based on Daemon Targaryen from Princess and Queen.
> 
> Kingsguard: The infant is female. Gerold and Oswell leave to defend King Viserys III in Dragonstone, Arthur and some of his brother's men stay back to defend their 'widowed princess' and princess. Lyanna was in no fit state to be moved, and while Gerold and Oswell tried to convince Arthur to grab the girl and go, he refused. They yielded than fighting over that.
> 
> And Greek fire makes an appearance-more Byzantine! This is not strictly Greek Fire tbh, more of an early organometallic compound that the Velaryons accidentally made (think diethyl Zinc). Pyrophoric, and burns on contact with water. Fun stuff, tough not as strong as BuLi.


	3. Winterfell I: The Prodigal Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘They may not share blood, but she would be the only child he was ever likely to have.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Made some rather big changes-including the title itself. Have not been able to reply to any comments yet, apologies (going to go over and start now, might take me one more day).
> 
> Returning readers may want to read the notes to the first chapter should they want an explanation about the changes.
> 
> As always-comment if you want to :)
> 
> Rest explained at end-notes.

**POV: Maester Luwin**

286 AL.

‘Maester Luwin?’

He glanced up from the parchment on the desk to see Lord Stark standing at the door. _That is unexpected, why would he climb up all those stairs to come here?_ The library tower was certainly not the most popular place in Winterfell, and he found that he greatly enjoyed his solitude up here, free from the troubles from the world beneath. _Unless, it is something about the lessons._

‘My Lord,’ he said, rising up and bowing. ‘Please come in and have a seat.’

Eddard Stark looked rather uncomfortable, and Luwin had to remind himself that this Lord did not particularly like the usual formalities with which he was greeted. Nonetheless, Luwin would not be the one to break protocol unless prompted to do so, which so far not had been the case.

‘Thank you Maester, but I will not be here for long. I simply have a favor to ask of you.’

‘Favor, my Lord?’

Eddard Stark reddened slightly, before continuing. ‘Lord Dayne’s wife is with child, and Wylla is required back at Starfall. I know this is a lot to ask, but could Joanna join Robb in the lessons?’

 _I see._ Wylla departing would certainly be an issue, as she had been the primary caregiver for young Joanna. Lady Stark was unlikely to play mother to her husband’s natural daughter, and while the servants would be glad to take care of her, she would require some proper upbringing to not be an embarrassment to her father’s House.

‘She is welcome to start coming to the lessons, once they actually start in two weeks. However, I must warn you my Lord, that I have no knowledge about upbringing of daughters. I can ensure her literacy and teach her manners, but I feel like a Septa might be the best idea.’

He instantly regretted his words, as he remembered that House Stark kept to the Old Gods, and did not have a custom of recruiting Septas for educating daughters. However, Lord Stark did not look offended, and simply nodded his head.

‘Catelyn thinks so too, for she is getting one from the Riverlands for Sansa.’

 _Already? But she is barely one!_ ‘And she does not feel that Joanna should participate in those lessons?’

The silence was answer enough, as he racked his brain for alternatives. ‘ I am afraid I do not know of any Septa of sufficiently good standing to recommend, my Lord.’ _More like know no Septa what so ever, Oldtown might be the bastion of the Faith but the Citadel admitted no woman._

‘That would be a problem. You see, though Stark women have traditionally done well without Septas, I nonetheless feel that it would have been good to have a calming influence in life to stop one from running wild.’

Left unsaid were all the words Benjen had told him when it had just been the two of them, a green boy and a new Maester holding Winterfell as the rebellion raged in the South. _Perhaps Lyanna Stark would have indeed profited from a Septa._

 _But there is little I can do, short of writing to contacts in Oldtown._ He was certain he could find a qualified woman, but it was the price-tag that worried him. He had taken over the accounts of Winterfell from Benjen, and Lord Eddard had shown no inclination to relieve him off that duty. _Having two Septa’s, one for an illegitimate girl, is far too high an expense, especially as the women are good for little else._ It would certainly not place them in debt, but it was not an expense that he could justify. _Besides, Winter is coming,_ he thought, smiling internally _._

‘The prudent thing to do is to make Joanna attend lessons with Robb for now. Let the new Septa settle in, then let us see if she will be amenable to a second pupil.’ _That would prevent me from having to call another Septa here, and get locked into a battle of proxies with Catelyn Stark. The Septa will soon realize that her bread comes from the Lord of Winterfell and not the Lady. After that, getting lessons for Joanna should not be a big problem._

 _‘_ Thank you for agreeing so easily, Maester.’

‘You were expecting otherwise?’

‘Your predecessor only let Lyanna in after Brandon and I raised hell over it.’

‘That is certainly odd. There is nothing in the Faith of the Seven that prevents women from getting an education. After all, the Crone is wiser than us all.’

‘Nonetheless, thank you for agreeing to take care of her.’

‘Self-interest, I assure you. I do not wish to deal with Robb demanding his sister.’

* * *

 

290AL

Maester Luwin climbed back into the library tower, after the exhausting journey to the rookery. _I am indeed getting too old for climbing all these stairs._ He smiled however, once he saw the small brunette head buried into a book.

‘What are you reading, Joanna?’

Violet eyes looked up to meet his, and he could not say he was truly comfortable under her gaze. _Dayne eyes._ Or so he had heard, but though he had never met Ashara Dayne in person, those eyes reminded him of something else, something in his past that he could not entirely place.

‘ _The Histories_ , Maester Luwin. I am practicing my writing by copying it out.’

‘Which section are you in now?’

‘The invasion of the Vale. The Forty had been summoned to Valyria for deciding the scale of assault.’

‘The times of the _optimus princeps_ (greatest ruler) _?_ Excellent, carry on.’

‘I do have a question, Maester. Why invade the Vale, as opposed to the more fertile lands in the South?’

‘They did conquer and hold the East Coast for another five hundred years after the Vale fell, only yielding it when the Eastern frontier gave way. However, starting the invasion from the Vale seems to be strange choice. The simplest answer is that we do not know, three and a half thousand years have passed since Emperor Trian died. Though his reign is relatively well documented, it is difficult to separate fact from fiction, especially in some of the more ridiculous pieces of writings from the Free Cities. I suspect that this volume may be the most trustworthy of all surviving sources, as the collections in both Dragonstone and King’s Landing have been in complete chaos since the rebellion. Grand Maester Pycelle had never been one to care much for history, and Maester Cressen at Dragonstone is getting on in his years.’

‘But this volume does not speak of motives.’

‘Sometimes, silence speaks volumes by itself. The current consensus is that Emperor Trian gave chase to the Andals, who had landed in the Vale. As a general, he had earlier driven them out of Essos, and in his twilight years as the Emperor, sought to decimate the race by invading Westeros. His death ended the persecutions, as his successor permitted the Lord of the Vale to keep his title, though his lands served Valyria. However, Princess Elaena Targaryen could have hardly written that down, seeing that the Targaryen subjects were mostly Andals. In fact, I suspect she only mentioned this event as she had been married to House Stark, who had allied themselves with Valyria against the Andals. The largely infertile North had never been of much interest for invaders, except those who intended to proselytize.’

‘In fact, I do not know if I had told you this, but I chose to come to Winterfell in order to study Princess Elaena’s writings. In those times, access to primary material in Dragonstone and King’s Landing was hard if you were not a Targaryen. Winterfell seemed like the easiest way to continue studying Eastern History, taking advantage of the vast archives left here by the Old King’s daughter.’

The smile on her face confirmed that he had indeed already told her this. But it soon grew serious, as she opened her mouth as if to ask something and then sealed it shut.

‘What is it child?’

‘Uncle Benjen had written to me, and he suggested that I start training in the yard, with Robb and Theon.’

‘Really?’ That was not too surprising on some level, knowing who Benjen’s preferred sparring partner in youth was. On the other hand, her eventual fate might have prompted Benjen to advice his niece from following her footsteps.

‘Yes,’ she replied defiantly, looking directly into his eyes.

‘It all depends on your father and Ser Rodrik of course, but do you really want to do this?’

‘Of course, Maester! It will be good to be proficient with one practical skill.’

The face looked very convincing, and might have fooled anyone else. Having observed the evolution of her facial patterns over four years had however given him enough expertize to know when she was covering something up. _I would wager that the Greyjoy boy had said something about her being a weakling and a bastard, which prompted her to show him up. She was never one to pull back from a challenge._

‘In that case, perhaps requesting Septa Mordane for sewing lessons would be a better idea, as I know no army that allows women to fight alongside. Lets get to the real reason, did Theon say anything?’

‘The usual things, but Robb was silent this time!’

 _Ah, so for once it is not a challenge but an attempt to spend more time with her brother._ The two used to be thick as thieves, but had been growing more distant with diverging interests. Robb had never been the most academically minded, while Joanna spent nearly all her waking hours up here in the library. _Sword training is another point of divergence, as she fears he would grow closer to Greyjoy, and thus lose move further away._

‘I hope you do realize what you are asking for, Joanna. A sword is weapon to kill, no matter how righteously you phrase it. Murder is the only art a swordsman may practice. No ornamental words or weapons can change that. Even if all you want to do is protect people, you will have to slaughter your adversaries. Yes, those men are probably evil, but they were human beings first and foremost, trying to lead their lives the only way they know. It is a terrible responsibility, Joanna-the art of swordsmanship. You have to be the judge of who deserves to live and who does not, and then carry out your justice to the best of your abilities or perish. The bards and singers will deceive you into believing that you are saving lives even as you destroy them. You will accept these lies all the while your hands will be stained with the worst of offenses.’

‘So you think I should just sit idly by and rely on others to defend me all my life?’

‘Not at all, Joanna. I will not prohibit you from training with swords and will speak with your lord father on your behalf, should you so wish. But I want you to realize the consequences of what you are going to learn. I have seen far too many green boys march into battle and get killed, desert or be unable to come to terms with their actions.’

‘Life is not a song, Maeser Luwin’, she repeated bitterly. ‘As a bastard I always knew that.’

He regretted having to tell her this, but he had to stamp out any delusions the girl might get from her peers in the yard. ‘And never forget that lesson, for the world will never stop reminding you of that. I do not want you to go into that arena in the hope of simply gaining companionship. Go there to give your best effort and excel, and do not forget that the best warrior is not the one with the best style or technique, but the one who goes for the kill. None of Rhaegar Targaryen’s tourney abilities saved him on that day on the Trident. Young lordlings will say otherwise, will talk of hunts, or to win the hearts of maidens or glory, but ultimately death must be the end result. Your Lord father understands it, which is why he always swings the sword and carries out his own justice instead of using a headman. Your brother will learn too one day, but you will not have anyone to buffer your journey the way he will have.’

‘Except you, Maester,’ she said with a small smirk on her face. ‘One would think I already knew all of it, but hearing it out loud does make a great deal of difference. The recipe is simple then, I think-go out and give your best, and fight for complete victory.’

‘Precisely, Joanna. The Seven may not forgive me for destroying your childhood innocence, but I want to see you have a satisfying life and just not a sheltered childhood.’

‘What destroying Maester? Wylla taught me the basics a long time ago-give no quarter and expect none. In any case, I am glad it was you who stops me from believing those tales and songs than Lady Catelyn.’

‘Truth be told, you could have figured out yourself.’ _As you did when you were four and came to me, unsatisfied with a story from Old Nan. If I were a man who knew more about parenting, perhaps I could have lied and said they lived happily ever after, but I was a fool and spoke the truth, only to see you smile cynically at me._

 _What made you so cynical, Joanna? Is it all these books about bloodshed and history that strips you off any delusions you might have had about life outside Winterfell? Or is it my own bitter cynicism that I have passed on to my intellectual successor._ For that’s what she was, though she was only seven. _I never thought I would see a day when a four year old could do simple sums on her first lesson, before calmly explaining that her nurse taught her in order to not let traders fool her._

_The drive of the smallfolk with the resources of a noble-a deadly combination encompassing the best and worst of both worlds. I would not be surprised if she actually beats her brother black and blue in the yard._

He sank deeper into his thoughts, once the girl returned back to her book. Joanna was all he had, for Robb had never shown anything more than a cursory interest in his books. Lord Eddard had seen to it that his son will know letters and sums, but Robb could not debate on the finer aspects of poetry, know how to treat a simple disease or spend hours copying Valyrian to perfect calligraphy. Her drive shocked him even now, and reminded him of some students in the Citadel who could barely support themselves-coming from poor families who could not afford to support a student for any longer than strictly necessary. Joanna was not the smartest person he had ever met (that would always be some of those students in the Citadel), but she far more capable than the usual castle-raised crowd, who lacked a sufficient motivation to apply themselves, irrespective of their intellectual capacity.

He was aware that he could not have a family when he became a Maester, and truth be told, he had looked forward to it. Ruining some woman’s life by being her husband was not something he had ever sought to do, and the Citadel offered a more honorable path than the Black (he never aspired to take the White, nor did he ever have those skills). Nonetheless, he liked children-and his only regret was not having any for himself.

Joanna would be the closest thing he could have to a child of his own-with her dead mother, and a kind but confused and distant father. Lord Stark had the best intentions for his daughter, but did not really know how to deal with her. _I do not know anything about being a Father to little girls-Jon Arryn had none, and Robert and I were the only nobly-born children up in the Eyrie. My father did a less than stellar job with Lyanna, and which is why I am glad that Sansa and Arya will have their mother. And I cannot express in words how grateful I am for you agreeing to take Joanna under your wing-_ was what Eddard Stark had told him when it was just the two of them drinking in his solar, discussing the education of the children. He was not even disappointed that Sansa and Arya will not be coming to him for lessons, but be educated by the Septa. _Better one dedicated student than a thousand acolytes._

He was glad that he did not have to yield her to Sepata Mordane. Lord Stark had made an indirect suggestion, but the Septa had been horrified. Luwin did not doubt that she only dared show it on account of the extreme vagueness Lord Stark had chosen for his first approach, but his attempts to be more direct were stonewalled by Lady Catelyn. He too was reluctant to let go of his prize student, and ultimately Lord Stark had settled for status quo.

 _He would not be too happy to know that she wants to train in the yard. I shall have to insist it is for self-defense, and archery will not protect her at close range from a raper. He may bend if I assure her that she will not be allowed to run wild, and must show the same commitment to her studies in order for this to continue. Run wild, indeed_ , he snorted. _No matter how much the people say she resembles her long dead aunt, she cannot be more different._ If there was one trait Joanna had above any other, it would be finesse. From the way she wrote on paper to the way she cut her meat-precise and methodical in everything. _Or at least strives to be-she still has a long road to go._

He wondered if Benjen thought the same. The girl was close to his uncle, closer than her father in any case-considering the frequency with which ravens flew from Winterfell to Castle Black. _He probably does too-she is the closest thing to a child he could ever have as well, as a honorable man of Night’s Watch._

‘Do you know how to play an instrument Joanna? The finer control over one might help you with your sword training.’

She looked up again, and he was once more pierced by those eyes. ‘I fear not, Maester. I think Septa Mordane might be teaching Sansa something, but I have no idea.’

‘I am not too good with any instrument myself, but I had tried my hand on a few pieces when I was in Oldtown. And if there is one thing I have heard, practice makes perfect. If you want, we can both try our hands with something simple, like perhaps a flute.’

‘Sure, that would be interesting, ’she said, before returning to her book.

 _At least that will be one ladylike skill of worth you will have from me, if nothing else._ Discreet offers for her hand had started to pour in, and the paucity of daughters in House Stark had ensured that these were not for third sons or distant cousins. _Lord Bolton, Lord Cerwyn, Lord Karstark and Lord Hornwood had written enquiring about the possibility._ Lord Stark was dead against a betrothal before ten, and he agreed with him there. Circumstances change as often, and the offers might change to requests for Sansa and Arya after they survive their first winter. Still, he suspected that the girl would get a good match somewhere in the North.

 _After all, there is little else there for a woman to do. The Citadel do not accept women, and she would be very unhappy as a Septa._ The thought made him laugh internally, Joanna teaching young girls swordplay.

_I only hope Joanna understands, despite her insistence that she knows her fate. The age of Princess Nymeria and Visenya Targaryen is long gone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luwin's speech about swords is blatantly plagiarized from Seijiro Hiko's speech to Kenshin in 'Trust and Betrayal'. 
> 
> Elaena Targaryen-One of Jaehaerys and Alyssane's five (or was it four?) daughters. Married into House Stark and was a historian who preserved a vast quantity of primary sources, and wrote a book on the matter.
> 
> Luwin being in Winterfell-Luwin says he delivered all of Cat's kids-but Riverunn has a pretty old Maester there. Simplest solution employed.
> 
> Joanna is no '1 in a billion type' prodigy tbh, just smart and incredibly driven. The drive is the real thing.


	4. Winterfell II: Pieces of a Puzzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘He had seen those eyes before, set in the face of a man who was fated to die long before his time.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I will be updating with smaller chapters to keep pace up. Time is rather a valuable commodity nowadays :(
> 
> Reviews will be appreciated (as will be Kudos should you like this)
> 
> I own nothing.

Lady Stark’s fourth birth had not been particularly easy, but she would recover in time and probably without any lasting damage. Mother and son were doing well, and Maester Luwin hoped that the woman would take it easy after finally producing a spare for her husband. It could have been far worse, he reasoned- Lady Stark’s mother had not survived her fourth birth and her sister the Lady Arryn had a large number of miscarriages and stillbirths. Now that Winterfell’s succession was secure, she would have little reason to worry, _and stop asking me for all those herbs._

He had never brought this up with Lord Stark, for he knew why she acted the way she had. _In a society where a woman’s worth is measured by the number of sons, what choice did she really have?_ He strongly disapproved of her behavior towards Joanna but he could sympathize on some level. Had Joanna been a boy, her position would have been seriously threatened should anything have happened to Robb. _Oh, the Northern Lords would pledge themselves to the little girl alright, and then play their own games for the day when they could place their puppet on the seat of Winterfell. And should Sansa have married a southron…._

Yet he could not help but wonder if there was a far baser reason for Catelyn Stark’s behavior than fear for her children’s future. Joanna was growing up to be a rare beauty indeed, the classic flower of Northern womanhood and the spitting image of her aunt Lyanna if Ser Rodrik was to be believed. Normally he would worry about her security on account of her status but the circumstances had lifted that weight above his shoulders. Her brother, _no-eldest brother now_ , watched over like a hawk when she left his sanctuary, although it could be argued that he needed her services more.

For Joanna had excelled in the field as much as she did in her lessons, and had already earned heavy praise from Ser Rodrik. It was in private of course, for Ser Rodrik could hardly permit his charge’s head to swell from praise but he did tell him and Lord Stark that Joanna was far better than her aunt had been. _She knows how to go for the kill,_ were his exact words, _less than useful for a tourney but effective in a real battle. Makes my heart glad to know that no one is going to kidnap this girl without losing a pint of blood._

 _I guess she did take my advice to heart,_ thought Maester Luwin. _She cannot beat them in brute strength, certainly not boys older than her-but she is light enough to dodge their blows and weary them out before landing a strike._ Usually that one strike was all it took, for it was always aimed at a vital spot. _Dodge, parry and dance-almost snakelike, I wonder what the Red Viper would think of it._ Probably not much, since she was never going to fight in a tourney in the south and Oberyn Martell was unlikely to venture North of the Neck but it was an interesting hypothetical scenario to think about. _Assuming the bad blood over Lyanna and Princess Elia did not exist, of course._

That journey had not been easy-he had to hold her for quite a number of times in the first three months as she cried her lungs out. Outwardly, no one had seen much of a reaction to the bruises and Greyjoy’s taunts but she let it all out when it was just the two of them up in the tower. She had nearly quit twice and both times he talked her out. _It would build self-confidence,_ he said _. Remember that despite what Ser Rodrik or Lord Stark orders, the others will treat Robb easier as he will be their future lord. If you want them to respect you, you will have to earn it yourself._ It had taken six months of continuous training for her to win her first battle, and then it had been a steadily uphill climb. Few of the boys were sufficiently nimble on their feet to dance with her and the consequences had been disastrous for them. Robb had tried to take her on in an attempt to impress the others, only to be whipped back down. It had happened five more times, and the boy had been desperate in the last three. Two bruises on the sword arm, three on the chest and a last one on the neck had been the reward the heir of Winterfell obtained for his boldness. _And then the indignity of being pulled up to his feet by his sister, in front of everyone._

That had been the beginning in the silent change of attitude towards the girl. Lady Catelyn had been furious, and had asked him to keep her confined to her lessons more, as he examined Robb’s injuries. _No broken bones,_ he had noted, somewhat surprised. His suspicions were put to rest the very next day when Greyjoy taunted Robb a bit too much for losing to a girl, and was challenged to a duel by Joanna in retribution. The broken wrist of the Heir of Iron Islands confirmed that Joanna too had physically held back with her brother, although had not spared much thought for his dignity _._ Greyjoy’s humiliation effectively completed the tectonic shift in the opinions about Joanna. Lady Catelyn was perhaps the only one undecided about who they were backing on that duel, and Joanna’s victory had effectively stopped all whispers of the word ‘bastard’. ‘Lyanna Stark’ was the word on everyone’s lips and he had heard ‘Arthur Dayne’ a fair few times too. Whatever doubts the servants of Winterfell might have had about the origins of their Lord’s firstborn evaporated virtually overnight, as they started to treat her the same way as her true-born siblings.

 _Except she earned it and does not abuse it to the extent her sister does._ Lady Catelyn had learned things the hard way after trying to punish Joanna for breaking Theon’s arm. An effective strike organized by Vayon Poole and Beth Cassel, followed by a firm admission by Lord Stark that he was not going to fire people who had served the Starks for generations over a trivial affair had ultimately forced her ladyship to concede. The support was hardly unexpected in any case, most of the servants had hated the Greyjoy boy’s guts (and would have probably hated him even if they had not lost family in the rebellion) and his reputation with the servant girls had been bad. The spectacle of him getting whipped had done Joanna a lot of favors- but her appearance had been the factor that had ultimately provoked people to defy their lady. _A few choice words like ‘southron’, ‘Andal’ and the ‘Seven’ in the right ears had not hurt either,_ as Joanna had told him. They had a laugh over it up in the Tower, and he had to admire her slowly increasing prowess in politics. _She will be an asset to House Stark irrespective of which house she marries into, as her poor husband will be under her thumb in days._

The initial marriage offers had not yet morphed into requests for Sansa, and he had to wonder whether his initial assessment about them was mistaken. _Or word travels very fast in the North. Still, she takes after two famous beauties -Lyanna Stark and her mother Ashara Dayne herself. A lord without Southron ambitions might have simply wanted to get a pretty wife for his son._ Northern politics was beyond him, that he could freely admit-for he had rarely found lords with so much contempt for the Capital elsewhere. _Lord Stark is the only reason why they are still with the Seven Kingdoms, for they are loyal to his house above all. However, should a future Stark of Winterfell call for secession-King’s Landing ought not to expect much help from them. Except perhaps Lord Bolton._ The man had an unsavory reputation and was coming to visit in a few days, bringing his son with him. _I wonder what his plans are-beyond the obvious that is._

He would have to talk to Joanna about this, he thought while climbing up the stairs, and also inform her that she had another brother. She had initially wanted to come and join him before he had gently reminded her who the patient was. _After that, she went back to the library._

He walked back into the library to see the familiar sight of a brunette head buried in a large book. She looked up on hearing his footsteps, and he looked into her piercing violet eyes.

Perhaps it was due to his proximity to Death in the birthing chamber, but he suddenly remembered where he had seen those eyes before. The familiarity had bothered him for years, especially as he did not recall meeting a Dayne. However, now he remembered a face from thirty years ago, of a dying man being supported by Knights as he entered the Citadel for the last time, accompanied by his daughter. The scholar king Jaehaerys II and his daughter Rhaella had been dead for years and their line was extinct in Westeros by all accounts. Yet on looking into Joanna Snow’s eyes, Maester Luwin finally felt he had been able to put together all the clues left by Benjen Stark during the rebellion. _Rhaegar’s daughter_ , he thought, his eyes widening.

‘Is something wrong, Maester’, the girl said, with a hint of fear creeping into her feature.

 _She fears that the birth has gone wrong._ ‘It is nothing, mother and child are doing well. I am simply tired from all the work as I am no longer as young as I used to be. I need to sit down for a while.’ _That was at least no lie._

‘Al, alright then. Let me know if you want me to fetch some water or something.’

‘Thank you for the offer, but I do not think that will be necessary,’ he said, collapsing into a chair. _What do I do now?_

His first instinct was to write to Benjen, but he squashed that thought immediately. _Ravens can be intercepted and this is too dangerous information._ Confronting Lord Stark was also out of question, Maesters were disposable and he might just lock the girl up somewhere else then. Writing to Gerold Hightower or Velaryon in Braavos was a bad idea as well, not the least because Velaryon was said to be responsible for the murders of Viserys and Rhaella in order to facilitate his own ascent to loyalist power. _That or Targaryen insanity._

Even if Velaryon was innocent, there was nothing the man could do. There was nothing anyone could do without Lord Stark knowing which was something he wanted to avoid at any cost. Anything that increased the likelihood of the girl’s death was out of question, which left him with limited options.

Keeping quiet was for the best, he decided. Lord Stark had told them about the bodies of the Targaryen children and no better fate awaited Joanna Sno- _no, Targaryen_ should she be discovered in Robert Baratheon’s Westeros. _Even the girl cannot know,_ he decided, _she is too headstrong and the Realm shall bleed again._

He was being a coward and he knew as much. He was simply taking the path of least resistance as Eddard Stark had done a few years ago.

Nonetheless, the desire to test an old hypothesis of his was too alluring.

‘Joanna, do you know what my Valyrian Steel link stands for?’

She looked at him in surprise. ‘Why Maester?’, she said, eyebrows rising high.

‘I think it is time I started augmenting your lessons with practical sessions.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Valyrian steel link- if you remember it is good. If not, you can look it up in the ASOIAF wiki but I would advise against it. The reveal will happen soon.
> 
> Winterfell arc still has a while to go.


	5. Winterfell III: The Pups

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Part of him was truly jealous of the Targaryens then, for they would have made a fantastic pair as sellswords in Essos.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dont even know what I was thinking. Wanted the Stark kids to interact a bit and this, semi-fluffy piece resulted. Let me know your thoughts- esp if this seems more Mary Sueish. 
> 
> Review, drop kudos, flame me etc, etc.
> 
> Other notes at the bottom

_Wintefell, 291AL_

POV: Robb Stark

He found her at the kitchens, directing the staff around and making all sorts of gestures with her small arms.

‘Almost done?’, he asked.

‘Nearly, give me fifteen minutes. I need to check whether everything is cleaned or not.’

It proved to be twenty more minutes before the last servant left the kitchen and Joanna collapsed into a chair.

‘Give me a moment, this is the most dreadfully tiring thing I have ever done. And Maester Luwin tells me that I have to do this for two more weeks!’

He inwardly smirked, as he fired back ‘Joanna Snow praying for my mother to get better?’ He would have not made such a joke a year earlier, but even he could see that their civil war was going badly out of control. _The incident with Theon finally pushed me to take a side, she was simply defending me from his taunts._ He would be the last person to wish ill upon Catelyn Stark, but the last few months of peace had been most welcome. And he could afford to joke now that Maester Luwin had confirmed that both she and the baby were safe and Lady Stark only needed time to recover her former strength.

Maester Luwin had ordered their mother to bed rest after her fifth month, and there was some confusion of who was to be lady of Winterfell in her absence. She had wanted Septa Mordane to manage Winterfell, eliciting a rather bad reaction from the servants. Even Ser Rodrik had gone up to their Lord Father to tell him that they were not going to serve a southron woman who was not a Stark by any stretch. Vayon Poole too had taken personal offense at the insinuation that he needed constant supervision after managing Winterfell and dealing servants ever since their grandmother had died.

Maester Luwin had been the one to offer a compromise, that business should run as usual with Vayon in charge while Joanna should learn the ropes from him in order to gain some more ladylike skills. Joanna had ranted about it for weeks, the first time she actively despised a suggestion of Maester Luwin. She had even gone to the extent of pushing for Sansa, although no one had seriously entertained the idea of a four year old in the position as Winterfell’s Lady (in training, as Joanna would be quick to remind). The girl in question had certainly exhibited far more interest in dolls at any case, and Joanna was left with no choice after father ordered her. She had done well enough to function without supervision, as Vayon’s absence showed. _Or she glared at him till he was scared enough to run._

The violet eyes that looked up at him however lacked the piercing intensity of that infamous glare, but merely reflected tiredness. Without a word, she stood up and walked out of the room while he followed after.

* * *

 

‘Sorry for the mess,’ she said, shifting some books over from the bed for them to sit. ‘I had little scope to clean up recently.’

That much was fairly evident from the clutter all around. Pieces of parchment lay all around, filled with strange symbols that he could barely understand.

‘Still studying that dead language?’ he cheekily asked.

A pillow smacked into his face the next moment, as his sister glared at her from across the room. ‘Having some culture in you will not kill you, you know.’

‘Says the scholar of a dead language,’ he said before nervously glancing to see if she was about to throw anything else. To his horror, she was holding a rather large and thick book. _Time to duck._

‘You are lucky that the book is much more valuable than you,’ Jo said, laughing before setting it down on her desk.

‘Usurped by a book,’ he said dramatically, clutching his chest. Jo’s laughter doubled as she moved over to the bed, and sat beside him.

‘I think the book will make a better Lord than a jester, in all likelihood.’

‘You wound me, O’ Fair Lady of Winterfell.’

‘The book at last has some useful information within itself. Harp as much as you want but no surviving civilization has left written records that have been preserved as much as the Valyrian, in spite of the Doom.’

He had to grudgingly acknowledge the fact that the things she read about were probably much more likely to be true than Old Nan’s tales or Sansa’s songs. ‘I get that, but it still surprises me how much was left behind.’

‘The bureaucratic class needed these more than the Forty, and they were not confined to the City. Caches had survived in Volantis and the other Free Cities, besides Dragonstone. I generally rely on the Dragonstone material as it is generally considered by the Citadel to be the most authentic.’

‘Is that truly the case?’

‘I do not know to be honest, and nor will I unless I see some of the Essosi documents. However, I doubt many of the real ones truly survived the Century of Blood following the Doom, while the Targaryens preserved Dragonstone archives. Therefore, the case presented by the Citadel is somewhat compelling.’

‘Never one to trust, sweet sister?’

‘Shut up! If you have read as much as I had then you would understand that how common lies and treachery are and would have stopped being so damn naïve.’

‘Language, dear sister, language. You must be really tired to abandon your composure.’

‘Sorry, but I hate this work of managing the household.’

‘As if you are bad at it.’ _As if you are bad at anything save sewing._

‘That does not change the fact that it is dreadful and I would much rather be studying with Maester Luwin or sparring in the yard. Although, as Maester Luwin reminds me, this will be my life after I am wed.’

 _Such waste._ And it was not the first time Robb Stark had thought of it. Joanna was far better than the silly girls that Winterfell seemed to be full off. _Although she gets on quite well with them, including stupid Beth Cassel._

‘You should have been Lady of Winterfell.’

Joanna looked startled before bursting into laughter. ‘We are not the Targaryens, Robb.’

‘Reading about too much incest in your Valyrian books?’ he fired back cheekily. ‘I did not mean it that way, I simply wanted to suggest that you should have been heir-not me.’

The smile evaporated fast as her face hardened. ‘Don’t you dare say that’, she hissed.

‘It is true, you are smarter, more efficient and better with a swo—‘

‘Do not tell me you have forgotten my twin disadvantages. I suppose performing some heroic deed for Father or the King might settle the issue of bastardy, but nothing will compensate the lack of a cock. Women do not ever win, even in Sansa’s songs.’

He had to fall silent at this, for there was no proper reply he could give her. ‘So you intend to be satisfied with your fate?’

‘When did I say that Robb? I simply acknowledge that my arms are not strong enough to lift up this whole world. It would crush me if I dare try. I will do the best I can, but I have no desire to waste my life on a meaningless quest.’

‘What of the harlot Queen?’

‘Where did you hear that story?’

He was embarrassed to admit it, but he knew he would badgered till he replied. ‘Mother mentioned it once-’

‘-warning that I will turn out the same way’, finished Joanna. ‘That story has been drilled into the heads of Southron girls for generations. The true story is somewhat more boring I fear.’

‘What is it?’

‘Emperor Iustin of Valyria had no sons and intended his nephew to succeed him. The nephew in question was the result of an illegitimate relationship between the Emperor’s sister and a slave. That raised a lot of questions about legitimacy, but he was a dragonrider and a strong one at that. No one really questioned Petros’s ascent to the throne except to sneer at his wife Theodora, a former prostitute. They proved themselves worthy of the office by stabilizing the Eastern frontier and making massive reconquests in the West. Their armies had once again seized most of the Westerosi East coast when Petros died. His wife wanted to succeed him as Emperor, but she was no dragonrider and faced great opposition.’

‘Then?’

‘Petros’s family and all their riders stood behind her, as did twenty three other families. Sixteen opposed and that caused a devastating war that nearly saw the Empire fall apart. Nonetheless, Theodora declared that she would rather die an Emperor than live a pauper and her side ultimately prevailed, but at the cost of many men and dragons.’

‘So she succeeded.’

‘That’s where the favorable accounts end. They neglect to mention the plague that happened next which, coupled with the losses from the civil war, effectively brought Valyria to its knees. Ghis took the chance to strike-resulting in a five decade war that destroyed them but made Valyria too weak to repel the barbarian tribes moving in from the East to fill the vacuum.’

‘But the plague could not have been her fault.’

‘No, of course not. She had proved her mettle by defeating the most powerful of the Forty with the weakest. I am in fact flattered that your mother compared me to her. But the story shows the power Fate holds over even the most mighty ruler of an Empire. It would have brought her husband down too had it been him and not her who ruled then.’

‘So you think everything is pre-determined?’

‘No, but I do think that there is a limit one should adhere to while tempting fate. I cannot become a Knight as I would simply be treated a novelty as opposed to a real warrior. The Citadel does not accept women and I do not keep to the Faith. I think marrying into the Dreadfort or wherever father decides will be somewhat better than living as barbarian North of the Wall or as a courtesan in the Free Cities. Besides, I owe House Stark enough to accept my role as a pawn in this game.’

‘Father will let you marry for love, if you so choose.’

‘Oh, my sweet summer child’, she said mockingly, mimicking old Nan before becoming serious. ‘And then what? Fall in love with some handsome knight as in a song and manage his household while birthing a dozen babes? Or run away with a servant or a farmer? I think not Robb, that would be a terrifying waste of my education and upbringing. I am far more comfortable playing the game of thrones than thinking about love.’

‘You are frightening me now’, he joked, _although it is not completely untrue._

‘Have no fear, Robb. Whoever I marry will prove to be one of your most loyal bannermen. Or else…’

The threat hung heavily in the air, and Robb did not for a second doubt its potency. Then again, few men would be stupid enough to defy her. ‘Lord Bolton might be tougher than you think.’

‘It is his son that concerns me, but we will find out more about him once they actually arrive. Nothing is final yet, remember that it can just as easily be Sansa.’

‘Doesn’t seem like you want that.’

‘Do you honestly think she will survive that place? The Dreadfort will be a challenge for even me but I can handle it.’

‘And this is why you should have been heir.’

‘I am the one with Dornish blood in here, and I think it will never work. Not after the Dance.’

‘House Stark supported the Queen.’

‘And her spectacular mismanagement resulted her in getting burned and destroying any hopes of a woman inheriting. House Stark ultimately agreed to the new succession law to forever limit the Iron Throne from the reach of women, despite their earlier support to both Rhaenyra and Rhaenys. Also-keep in mind that our culture is much more gender obsessed than the Eastern Cultures are, with or without Andal influence. There has not been a Lady of Winterfell in the last eight thousand years-it is always her son or grandson.’

He had to acknowledge her words, but still could not stop himself from saying-‘But we would have been a great pair, with my strength and your intelligence-‘

‘Jon and Robb against the world?’, she interrupted, reminding him of the silly nickname he had made for her when they were younger and he wanted to pretend she was a boy. ‘Dreams are just that Robb, dreams that may never come true. There is no Jon Snow here to be your castellan or master-at-arms, only Joanna. We both have to marry into places where politics demands we must. That is all we could ever aspire to be, as heir and bastard daughter.’

He had never felt more jealous of the Targaryens as he did then. ‘So I will not have my Brandon Snow?’

‘You will, Torrhen. Just not as a companion in arms. Neutralizing the Dreadfort seems like a good task to do for one’s liege. Anyway, this drama has gone on for long enough. I assume you still want me to try to teach you the harp so that you can charm Alys once the Karstark’s arrive?’

He nodded, though it was not Alys he was hoping to impress. _Rather it was you._

_It is against the gods, but which gods? They had never struck Valyria in its five thousand years of sin, even if they might have pushed it to its end. But she will not, whatever else she is, she always does her duty. Asking her to run away with me and be sell-swords together in the East will simply be dismissed as a fantasy._

It was a foolish hope indeed, that he would get to spend more time with her by learning the harp from her and perhaps make her see what greatness she can achieve.

‘Then let us start now,’ she said firmly. ‘The Boltons will be here this week and I was hoping to catch some sleep tonight.’

* * *

 

‘How dare Vayon insinuate that I am not capable!’ she seethed.

‘You should stop putting words in his mouth, dear sister.’

‘Shut up! It is your fault that I woke up late.’

‘And Vayon saw your tired face and decided you needed a day off. Nothing has gone wrong in your absence.’

‘You make it sound like they were waiting for me to fail.’

‘I doubt it, as you have been told to report to duty tomorrow. Vayon ordered me to take you riding so that you do not kill yourself from work.’

‘Ser Rodrik will be unhappy.’

‘He will understand. We will spar after we come back.’

‘You seem very interested in this, Robb.’

‘I only have two more weeks of freedom before Mother forces me back to lessons.’

‘Never thought the day would come when I would take her side.’

‘Traitor!’

They had barely made it to Robb’s room, when they found Sansa sitting inside.

‘Why weren’t you there in the morning?, she asked.

‘Good morning to you too sister.’

‘Where were you last night? You should not sleep in the servant’s quarters or in the stables you know,’ she said with a too serious face for a four year old.

‘Jo was teaching me how to play the harp and we fell asleep in her room.’

‘You are taking advantage of mother’s absence.’

‘As if you aren’t!’

‘And you should not sleep in her room, it is far too cold up in that Tower.’

‘Hello Sansa,’ Joanna ventured. ‘Lovely dress.’

‘Why do you always wear black?’

‘It is a nice color, don’t you think? Useful for keeping warm here in the North.’

‘Only criminals wear it.’

The smile evaporated from Joanna’s face. She was fiercely protective of their Uncle Benjen, Robb thought. _This will not end well._ But getting in Joanna’s path was never a smart move either. _I trust her to remember Sansa is only four._

‘If by criminals you mean the brave men of the Night’s Watch, then I would wear that insinuation as a badge of honor. Maester Luwin too wears black, and so whoever has been feeding you these bits of wisdom is badly mistaken.’

‘Knights do not wear black. The Kingsguard only wear white!’

‘Knights?’, Joanna smirked. ‘We are of the North, sweet sister. This is the land of the First Men and not Andals. The Faith holds no sway over our lord Father or House Stark. We do not keep those Southron inventions in these parts. Seems like Maester Luwin or I need to have a word with whoever has been teaching you. Till then you are better off listening to Old Nan’s tales than whatever else you have been taught. At least that will make you more of a Stark.’

‘You are not even one yourself! You don’t even wear our colors.’

‘I was not aware that we had changed our colors to blue and red either’, she said gesturing to Sansa’s dress. ‘In any case, ask your Septa about her opinion about your great-uncle the Blackfish. I am sure your mother will be curious as well.’

* * *

 

‘That was not too bad, you mostly held yourself in check’, Robb commented as they were out riding.

‘She is only four and is just parroting things she barely understands.’

‘Perhaps you should spend more time with her to show the error of her ways?’

‘Time is a rather valuable commodity for me, Robb. I have to assist Maester Luwin, spar and do basically every other thing. Besides, Father has determined that Septa Mordane is in charge of educating the girls and I am certain that your parents will not approve of my interference. Mordane’s pride saved me from ending up like Sansa, as she refused to teach me. One thing I am really grateful for.’

‘This has to stop you know. The last year has been near lunacy and this can barely continue.’

‘What cannot continue?’

‘This civil war between you and Mother.’

‘You know perfectly well that I am never the one to initiate.’

‘And I appreciate your restraint. But this struggle is still going on and everyone is going crazy.’

‘So what am I supposed to do? Sit back and be bossed around? Because I can tell you right now that is not going to happen.’

‘Be the bigger person?’

‘I am not in a position where I can afford that. In this game you either win or you lose, there is no middle ground. Every inch I cede will be used against me.’

‘Just don’t push her over the edge, ok? She is my mother and—‘

‘And kind to those she loves. I do not see in any fault in that or in ignoring me. My problem starts when she starts interfering with my life. You know as well as I do that she has never fit in up here in the North and to be honest never even tried.’

 _That was true._ ‘So this battle continues?’

‘Untill she yields or I am married off. You can look forward to more entertainment as I lance Septa Mordane.’

‘That is something I am honestly looking forward to,’ he grinned, as that was the only good part in the struggle.

‘I have to act before she can corrupt Arya,’ she said turning back and sticking her tongue out. ‘Now come on lazybones, we do not have all day!’, she yelled before accelerating forwards.

 _So competitive._ ‘It’s a race then!’

‘See you at the spring! Loser has to clean up after we are done eating.’

 

Empress Theodora in the Ravenna mosaics (image from Wikipedia)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bit of Valyrian history is almost word to word borrowed from Roman history. Emperor Justin I (Iustin in Latin) was succeeded by his nephew Peter Sabbatius Justinian (notice my pseud, yeah now you know) who was a son of a farmer and Justin's sister. Justin himself had been a farmer once and his wife was a former slave, so nothing too weird there. However, Justinian's wife Theodora was a different type of fish entirely. She is perhaps the most dangerous woman I have read about, someone who the historian Procopius claims was a former prostitute and the real power behind Justinian's throne. Procopius also accuses the Emperor of being a headless demon and the imperial couple of murdering trillions of people, so I am not sure how seriously one should read these. However, the prostitute part is generally accepted as legit history. 
> 
> The divergence is that Theodora predeceased Justinian in reality, and not the other way. In this world the deaths are flipped, resulting in a woman seizing powers, followed by a Nika riot style thing (wiki it :D ) and a Civil war. Then comes the real Justinianic plague and the last war with Persia (Ghis). The end saw both Empires virtually finished-and I fudged dates a bit, but the idea is similar.


	6. Winterfell IV: The Flayed Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Domeric. A quiet boy, but most accomplished. He served four years as Lady Dustin’s page, and three in the Vale as a squire to Lord Redfort. He played the high harp, read histories, and rode like the wind.'-Roose Bolton, Chap 32, A Dance With Dragons.
> 
>  
> 
> 'He was not as blind as his children wished. He could see that it was like Rhaegar and Lyanna again, with his son in the same position as his namesake.'-Eddard Stark, Chap 6, The Long Road Home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the first Multi-POV chapter, as I have come to a realization that those will be helpful in dealing with the story, without being forced to resort to many mini chapters from a single POV.
> 
> Everyone's favorite creep makes an appearance. 
> 
> Also-everything in this chapter is intentional and is a part of the greater story line.

_291AL._

_POV: Robb Stark_

He and Joanna were in their lessons with Maester Luwin, immersed in the study of heraldry, when the servant girl burst in.

‘I am sorry to interrupt Maester, but Lord Bolton and his heir have arrived. Lord Stark asked me to fetch Young Lord Robb and Lady Joanna so that they can meet the Lord of the Dreadfort.’

‘No point in waiting then,’ Maester Luwin said with a smile. ‘You two have to run and find your best clothes. However, we continue our lessons tomorrow right from where we are stopping.’

Robb groaned, but he at least had better sense than to complain. _At least we get one afternoon off._ He was surprised to note that Joanna did not complain either, but stood up to leave. _She looks nervous,_ he noticed-which did not surprise him at all. There had been some talk about finding a match for her, something that had led to quite some differences of opinion within Winterfell.

It was accepted that Joanna will marry and have a family of her own away from Winterfell sometime, despite how much both of them willed otherwise. The exact details however had split Winterfell into two. Lord Bolton and some other Northern Lords had made an offer for Jo’s hand, something she had caustically described as an attempt to get the only Stark daughter who had lived through a Winter and was too old to suddenly die from a childhood malady. Yet Summer had arrived and Sansa had grown older, but the offers had not magically transferred to the true-born daughter. Their mother was certainly very unhappy about that, something Robb found ridiculous. _She means for Sansa to marry in the South, perhaps to the Prince or so._ It was certainly something he had caught her whispering to Sansa, and Joanna had confirmed that it was quite likely to be a serious idea. He still recalled that conversation as it was yesterday:

_Father and the King are old friends, and he was betrothed to Aunt Lyanna. Perhaps this is how the Stark betrothal will be kept, a generation late. Lord Tully has little reason to complain. However…_

_However what Jo?_

_Nothing against Sansa, but such a match would be a strategic blunder for the King. House Stark and Arryn will be loyal with or without this match, and House Tully will go on with them. However, Lord Mace Tyrell of the Reach is unlikely to take this lying down, especially as he has daughter close in age to the Prince._

_But the Reach fought for the Targaryens?_

_And is the most populous and second most wealthy region. Neglecting it can force the Crown straight into the hands of House Lannister and make it little less than a puppet dancing to Lord Tywin. In any case, whoever marries Prince Joffrey should be beware of the Reach. Women die all too easily and are rather cheap to replace._

_Except Aunt Lyanna._

_Tell that to Cersei Lannister._

_I don’t get this though, you are the oldest daughter of House Stark and the one most like Aunt Lyanna. Shouldn’t you be the one marrying Joffrey?_

_Don’t be ridiculous Robb. A bastard can never be Queen. Look at what happened to Duncan Targaryen for marrying Jenny of Oldstones. Besides, I have no desire to marry South. The North is my place, where I have my rightful place as a Stark, irrespective of which side of the bed I was born from._

Mother certainly disagreed, and Jo had mentioned that she had tried to convince their father for a Southron match. _Some third son of some minor knight in Riverlands at first, which went out of the window after Lord Bolton had made an offer._ Lady Catelyn had suggested a respectable Riverland’s House then, mentioning that House Darry was in no position to refuse Lord Hoster Tully and House Frey always had need for brides. Neither he nor Jo was sure if either proposal had been taken seriously by their Father, who had put of all talks of betrothal until she reached ‘a respectable age’. Nevertheless, she had not taken a chance, and they had been loudly complaining about how the Old Gods were no longer worshipped in the South on account of Andals in the earshot of Septa Mordane. Both of them had been forced to endure a long lecture on how great a favor was done to the heathens by Andals marrying into the noble Houses of First Men. They were unsure how much Lord Eddard Stark had actually heard but his red face and loud coughing suggested the purpose had been served. They had run off with Beth Cassel (who had been charged by Joanna to drag Lord Stark over on some other pretext) to the Godswood to laugh about it. Afterwards he had asked Jo if she even believed in the Seven. Her reply had been rather curt, _The Old Gods make no false promises._

He suspected he would have been a much more frequent visitor to the Sept if not for the politics lessons drilled into him by Joanna, supported by the servants and tacitly confirmed by Maester Luwin. He still did go after all, just much less than what his mother wanted. It was not that he had rejected them the way Jo had, it more of that he recognized how frequent visits to a Sept by the heir to Winterfell might be interpreted by the fiercely independent minded Northern populace. _Manderlys do not evangelize and so no one cares,_ Jo had mentioned, _but the thought of House Stark giving up the Old Gods will not be taken well._

However, even followers of the Old Gods were told by Eddard Stark to wait a few more years before a firm word could be given. Apparently that had not deterred Lord Bolton, although he only claimed to be visiting in order to introduce his son to the Lord and the heir to Winterfell. _With the secondary benefits of testing the waters for a potential match._

His mother had not taken talk about the visit well, even though she was still confined to the bed to recover from Bran’s birth. For once, she and Joanna seemed to be on the same page if her worries about Lord Bolton were any indication. _Anyone should be worried, considering all the stories Old Nan says about the Dreadfort and long rivalry between our Houses._

 _Joanna however, is not opposed to this though she thinks Lord Bolton might just be trying to curry favor with Father by marrying a favored bastard, as well as get a foothold into Winterfell._ It was unlikely to be sinister, she had noted, considering that the last rebellion was well over a thousand years ago, and House Stark’s proximity to the Crown was a good deterrent. _Maybe we are simply overthinking this?_ was what she had said after their long discussion at the picnic, and he was tempted to agree. He did venture to ask if she would want to live in the Dreadfort, only to receive a caustic reply about not having set eyes on it yet. _People live there, so it is habitable. Certainly bound to be better than Castle Black._

 _Besides, it cannot hurt the Lord of Winterfell to have an extra pair of eyes in the Dreadfort,_ as Joanna had noted.

* * *

 

_POV: Joanna Snow_

Domeric Bolton was not what she had expected, and Robb was about to burst into laughter before her elbow found his stomach. Even she was barely restraining herself, for she had not yet met a boy whose hair was slightly longer than hers. _Why on earth??!_

Their father was looking at them somewhat disapprovingly, almost as if he could sense their mirth. Neither of the Bolton had still not yet noticed them walk in, and that gave her a moment to observe th-

Well, till their Lord Father announced their arrival. ‘Lord Bolton, Domeric-here is my eldest son, Robb.’

Both Boltons turned to face the new arrivals, and she barely hid a shiver on meeting Lord Bolton’s pale eyes. _I would certainly not like to be caught in the dark with him._ The son’s eyes were similar but she did notice that she could hold her gaze with him, as they seemed somewhat less frightening.

‘And my eldest daughter, Joanna’, continued Eddard Stark. ‘My wife is indisposed at this moment on account of childbirth and so she is the acting Lady of Winterfell.’

‘It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady,’ whispered Lord Bolton.

She wondered if her father expected her to offer her hand, but she was not going to do it. Instead she offered a curt and elaborate bow as Beth had taught her years ago.

Lord Bolton’s eyes widened, but a thin smile appeared on his lips. ‘So you keep to the Old Ways too, my lady?’

Lord Stark intervened at this moment to assert that she indeed kept to the old ways. _More rigidly than you in any case,_ she thought unkindly before remembering he had spent his childhood in the Vale. Lord Bolton was creepily looking at Robb then, who looked rather uncomfortable under observation. _Say something, you fool. Even ‘I am pleased to make your aquaintance’!_

‘Robb, Joanna-why don’t you show Domeric around Winterfell? I am sure he has little desire to stick around and listen to a boring conversation between adults,’ said Lord Eddard Stark.

She gritted her teeth on being dismissed thus, but did not protest and simply turned to smile at Domeric, gesturing him to follow them. Robb looked rather happy to be free of Lord Bolton and followed after them.

‘Now, Lord Domeric, permit me to acquaint you with the bounties of Winter—‘

‘We have sparring lessons with Ser Rodrik now, Jo.’

She gritted her teeth again. _Note to self: Start training Bran now and then arrange for an accident to greet this buffoon._

She however turned to smile at Robb, and the rate with which blood drained from him face suggested that he got the message. ‘Now brother dear, surely Ser Rodrik will not mind us showing our honored gue-‘

‘It is alright milady. I do not wish to cause a disruption to your schedule.’

She knew it was a lost cause then, trying to separate boys from swords but still ventured to try. ‘My brother’s schedule you mean-’

‘I did catch that he said “our” schedule, milady. Besides, word of your prowess has spread as far a Dreadfort.’

 _Fuck it all._ ‘I suppose Winterfell must wait then.’

* * *

 

Ser Rodrik at least had enough good sense to not pair her with Domeric, no doubt wishing to spare the young lording the indignity of being defeated by a woman. He was given a choice of weak opponents, while the strongest were sent up against her and Robb.

She knew that conventional wisdom indicated that she not try her best and let herself be defeated. Surprisingly enough, she trusted the boys in the yard to recognize the need to avoid scandal with the Boltons around. However, her pride did get in the way, and a dozen opponents and two broken wooden swords later, she was up against Robb. _My chance for revenge,_ she thought, seeing him gulp. Robb barely even put up a fight this time, knowing resistance was a lost cause and taking advantage of her principle of not whipping a vanquished adversary. _Damn you, Maester Luwin!_

And to add to her bad luck, Domeric decided to ask her to a duel. _So polite,_ she seethed _, almost like asking me a dance. Well, this will be a dance he will never forget._

To her surprise though, Domeric did not charge at her the way most of the other boys did. He stood at his spot and warily looked at her. She took the chance to observe him. _Long hair, pale and long face, black dress, slightly taller than me_ (she seethed again, it had taken her so long to beat Robb, and that was by eating meat and drinking milk every time she could and hanging from branches) _and soulful-NO WHAT AM I THINKING-creepy eyes._

For once she decided to begin the offensive, slowly approaching him, their eyes locked into each other’s. His reluctance to act shifted the responsibility to her, especially if any of them wanted to get any dinner for the day.

She struck, closing the distance fast and noticed with savage pleasure how wide his eyes widened. He was barely able to parry her first blow and was only able to raise the sword just a moment before she would have landed a hit. This was followed a few more parries as she circled around to attack.

After a few minutes however, she had to admit he was good. He was standing his ground, rotating on a single foot to face her as she changed direction to attack. He was playing pure defense and under normal circumstances she would have drawn back by now but her anger and pride forced her to plunge on.

He did not look very confident either, barely clinging on with fear apparent in his eyes, but he had resisted her for far too long already. It was time to go for the kill, except that all the routes were blocked by this stolid defender. _What is wrong with me? He should have succumbed long back._

Their swords collided again and this time both shattered. Without even thinking, she kicked him in the stomach, making him stumble and fall. She was about to punch him, when she heard the applause.

Lord Bolton was standing at the side and clapping. Their Father was there too, his face red. _Oops._

‘That was quite some battle, Lady Joanna. It is a pity that my son proved too much of a coward to refuse to move, but clearly the better warrior won.’

She forced herself to meet his eyes this time. _The sentiment is genuine enough and he is not terribly angry with me. More like, amused?,_ she thought surprised. _His endgame escapes me though._

‘You flatter me, my Lord. Lord Domeric is clearly the better fighter, simply exhausted from his travels,’ she said, before helping the boy on his feet. Surprisingly, he did not have any qualms about accepting help from a woman. _One positive._

‘Yes, yes. It was a good match. Now clean up, all of you and come for dinner’, said Eddard Stark, turning around and heading back. Lord Bolton followed, after turning once more and giving that creepy smile.

* * *

 

Domeric and she were placed side by side in dinner, as she mentally cursed Vayon to the Seven Hells. However, that was made slightly less awkward by his questions about the library, to which she responded back eagerly (in retrospect, too eagerly). Apparently he had been looking forward to reading some of the old books in the library and she promised to show him around later (without her idiot of a brother in the way for once, he would never willingly step inside that place).

It was like dragging Sansa into a garden full of butterflies, like that time just after summer had started. Domeric was rushing from shelf to shelf, thumbing books before letting out a disappointed sigh.

‘Are the books not to your liking, my Lord?’

‘I am certain these are fantastic volumes milady, but I cannot read Valyrian.’

She was not too surprised by that, the average Maester was barely any better. ‘I can help if you want?’

‘I would be in your debt then. Does your Maester know the language?’

‘Maester Luwin does, and I learned from him.’

‘Thanks a lot!’, he said, a lot more emotion in his eyes than before. ‘Do you play the harp too?’, he said, gesturing to the device at the corner.

‘Not too well, I fear. Maester Luwin is not the best in it.’

‘I fear you do not do justice to yourself, milady. I am certain that you would excel in this like in every other thing.’

That did not seem like the right time to talk about her sub-par sewing skills. ‘You flatter me, my Lord.’

‘How about this? You help me with Valyrian and I try to help you with the harp.’

‘Deal.’

‘How about playing a piece, milady?’

‘Which song do you want?’

‘Whatever you want?’

‘Alyssanne?’

‘How odd, that happens to be a favorite of mine.’

‘Cover your ears then.’

* * *

 

_POV: Eddard Stark._

‘How are you doing, Cat?’, he said, walking into her room.

‘Better, but I do not see why I have to be in bed when there are visitors around.’

‘Maester’s orders, Cat.’

‘Still, Winterfell ought to be in better hands than an eight year old girl.’

He privately bit back a retort that all was fine between his mother’s death and Catelyn coming to Winterfell. Domestic issues were too troublesome, and Roose asking for Joanna’s hand was even more worrisome. His last words indeed had been troubling _I can understand if Lady Joanna would prefer to not marry someone who has proven his incompetence on the training field._ Roose was ambitious, and so was Joanna. It was a dangerous combination to think about.

‘Ned, what is that?’, Catelyn said.

He heard a faint noise and had to move to the window to be certain. It was quite clear when he paid attention to it- _the harp._

“She is at it again! No peace at all.”

He however filtered her out as he remembered the tune. _Alyssanne, the same one Rhaegar had played in Harrenhall, causing Lyanna to burst into tears._ Fear suddenly gripped him at that moment, Joanna and Domeric had gone off together into the Tower and Roose mentioned that his son was more interested in harps than in swords.

 _It is like Harrenhall all over again. Lyanna, Rhaegar, even Robert_ -he was not half as blind as his children might have wished. But Robb and Joanna were not betrothed, and will never be. She could go off with her knight in shining armor should she want to. He had no Southron ambitions, and there was no place for a bastard daughter in any Lord’s ambitions. _Roose simply wants to be closer to House Stark, and perhaps her fire makes him think that she can make a man out of his own son._

All his earlier misgivings disappeared as he remembered Lyanna from long back. _Jo is a Stark, and will defeat Bolton in his own game should it needs be. The Aerys’s of this world do not win._

He would speak with her near the end of this visit, he decided and discover her opinion about Domeric. This would be a match he could approve, while certainly not befitting a Targaryen princess, would permit her children to inherit something.

 _It will be a good match, if only Fate does not intervene again_ , thought Lord Eddard Stark, as he turned back to face his wife, dreading the day when he would have to tell her his decision.


	7. Interlude I: Those who are of Braavos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘I have said this before Daeron and I will say it again! You were the only good thing that came out of that revolution. I have absolutely no regrets and would have married your mother even if she could never have children due to other reasons!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are finally prepared to bid adieu to 291AL, a very important year for our story. Bran was born then, and Robb and Joanna turned eight, as they start preparing to grow up. Before we head closer to canon storyline, we must however pause for a second, and stop briefly at another year-292AL, when Robert Arryn is born and Petyr Baelish becomes Master of Coin at Kings Landing. We also need to see what is happening to the exiles across the Narrow Sea.
> 
> Before reading this chapter, please keep in mind that the Targaryens are extinct in public eyes. Viserys and Rhaella died in Dragonstone, Daenerys was never born and Aerys’s nephew, Alyn Velaryon is under self-imposed exile in Braavos, making no effort to seek the Throne. The players of the Game of Thrones, will thus need to factor this into their equations.  
> Or start searching for hidden dragons.

_Braavos, 292AL._

POV: Alyn Velaryon.

Admiral Alyn Velaryon walked briskly, nodding politely at some familiar vendors, as he moved down the street. The day was especially warm, and he was sweating already. _How can it be so hot this far up North even in summer? I suppose the time behind the Wall has made me too soft to deal with the Essosi climate._

His thoughts however were distracted by a slight commotion to his left. He turned around to see that a vendor had collapsed into the road. _Not this again, unless it is really a heat-stroke this time._

His suspicions were confirmed by appearance of the fat man who was seemingly materialized next to him. _A warning would be nice._

‘Admiral, how was your trip?’

‘Same as ever’, he said jerking his hand towards the body on the streets.

‘Ah yes, such a pity. Some men cannot take the heat at all and some do eat things they ought not to.’

‘What number is this?’

‘The first one this year. There had been three in your absence.’

‘You would think they would have gotten the message by now.’

‘Our line of trade does not offer refunds, and your cousin across the Narrow Sea pays very handsomely. In vain, I fear, but the guilds do not mind the extra money as long as they can prove a serious attempt was made.’

‘Has the Spider appeared again?’

‘The eunuch has not dared show his face again, but he probably has his- _ah-little birds._ Braavos is too big to rat all of them out, although none have gotten close. No doubt, Baratheon will discover the failure of this attempt within two weeks or so.’

‘I would have almost felt guilty about the damage I was causing to the exchequer, if I cared anymore.’

‘Speaking of which, the Master of Coin of the Sunset Kingdoms has died.’

‘One less incompetent buffoon in this world. Who replaced him?’

‘The Lord Hand himself.’

‘That fool Arryn? The same man who thinks debasement is a reasonable way to tackle deficits? I expect the attacks to stop within a year, as they will have no more money left.’

‘Were you not in his place once?’

‘Yes, I had served as Master of Coin for my Uncle. Was supposed to be for a year to fill in for Tywin’s puppet but I had to stay on for longer. On top of that, he saddled me with the Ships after my father had died. That was how I am aware of Arryn’s fiscal knowledge-or lack thereof.’

‘You had studied in Volantis, no?’

‘My Uncle thought I needed some serious study after a few incidents in Braavos and Pentos. I should not have gotten involved with Oberyn Martell, and I think I pushed him too far.’

‘Considering what one hears of the Old King, it must not have taken much—‘

‘Ashara only told you one side of the story. He was a fine man before Duskendale, and I think he only completely lost control in the final days of the war. Poor sense of judgment, yes. Malevolence-hardly, before the end that is.’

‘You seem very fond of him.’

‘He was much more of my father than my sire.’

‘It was strange you were never Hand.’

‘I refused and asked him to give it to Jon Connington. Rhaegar and I did not see eye to eye on many issues, and we needed him to win. That particular gambit failed when that buffoon did not burn the Stoney Sept down.’

‘Hundreds would have died.’

‘And the thousands of deaths in the later battles could have been averted.’

‘Valar morghulis.’

‘Touché.’

* * *

 

It was a relief to back inside the coolness of his house and escape the morbid talk. Of course, the “blonde” who met him on arrival was responsible for a non-trivial portion of his joy as well.

‘How was the trip?’, asked Ashara, giving him a quick peck on lips.

‘Excellent. I do not think it will be necessary for me to go any more. The Wildlings have stopped causing trouble and the timber flow should now happen uninterrupted.’

‘They didn’t need much persuasion, did they?’

‘Eh, we reached an understanding of sorts. You see, both sides are rather unwilling to kneel before anyone. Things worked out for the better once they figured out we were neither Westerosi nor Slavers.’

‘So a more peaceful assignment that the usual raids against slavers and pirates?’

‘Not really, the storm delayed us by a few weeks. I hear we had some guest from Westeros in the meantime?’

‘Izembaro took care of them. I shudder to think about what we would be doing without him.’

‘The Braavosi need the siphon for their navy, and the Sealord—‘

‘Is an old friend of yours, but what happens afterwards?’

‘Asshai? Yi Ti? Ser Gerold and I can take care of ourselves, you know. Give a few years and Daeron could too. Although I would be more afraid for someone who got on the wrong side of his mother.’

‘Very funny Alyn. Anyways, you better go speak with Daeron now, he has been waiting for weeks.’

‘Still crossing steel with Ser Gerold?’

‘The old man is convinced that is the only way to learn. Arthur used steel at his age too.’

‘I suppose he better get used to it. He has to use Crystal one day.’

Ashara looked shocked. ‘I appreciate the gesture Alyn, but I think you should send it back to your brother in Driftmark.’

‘The normal mode of inheritance is from father to son, and Daeron is mine in all but blood!’, he snapped. _She is in one of her moods again, thinking she is asking too much of me._

The sound of metal hitting the floor broke both of them out of their reverie. ‘What do you mean by all but blood?’, said a small voice from the door.

He was afraid to turn and look into the face of the little boy whose voice was already thick with grief. _I think I could better deal with a dozen pirates than this_ , he thought grimly before turning to see the grey eyes full of tears. ‘Daeron—‘

‘It is true, isn’t it? That is why my eyes don’t look like either of yours!’.

‘This is not a conversation I intended to have for—‘

‘Till my funeral you mean!’, screamed the boy as he turned around and ran. He tried to follow, but Ser Gerold blocked his way. ‘Don’t you think you have done enough damage already?’, said the old knight. ‘Perhaps I should—‘

‘Get out of my way. This is between both of us.’

He wondered if he had gone all Targaryen on the old knight, for Ser Gerold did move aside, though not before sending a look of disapproval in his direction. Alyn ignored the knight, and turned to Ashara. ‘I will send him over when we are done.’

Ashara nodded, her lips shut tight and then Alyn ran out of his room to chase his son.

* * *

 

It was somewhat relieving that his son had left the door unlocked as well as somewhat disturbing as it indicated the level of his distress. Nevertheless he did knock once to give a warning before striding in and walking over to the bundle on the bed. He tried to place a hand on the boy’s shoulder only to be slapped away. He sighed and stood up.

‘Daeron, I never intended for you to find out this way—‘

‘Were you ever planning on telling me?’

‘I was but when you were older and wiser. Certainly not now, as I was afraid you would take it badly.’

‘Well, guess what? Your great plan has completely failed!’

‘I know, and I will try to make amends in any way I can. Ask me what you want.’

‘Who is my father?’. The words hurt more than it should have.

‘I am, that part has not changed!’

‘You know what I mean!’, screamed the boy, finally lifiting his head from the pillow.

‘Anything but that Daeron. I will give you the name once you have grown up, but I can answer other possible questions. He is still alive and married to someone else.’

‘So I am b-bas—‘

‘Don’t say that word!’, he snapped before regaining control. ‘What have we taught you, Daeron?’

‘That I should not judge someone based on birth but—‘

‘But what?’

‘I was reading about Daemon Blackfyre.’

‘Blackfyre was mad, like half the Targaryens. It had nothing to do with whether his parents were wed or not.’

‘But—‘

‘This is not Westeros, Daeron. There some fools care, but they are completely wrong. It does not ever make any difference. Every one of those lords have someone in their family tree who was born on the wrong side of the bed.’

‘But I am still not of your blood’, and at that moment he looked really small.

Alyn felt his heart clench, as he forced himself to move forwards. ‘No, but you are still my eldest child and heir. You will be the Lord of Tides after I am dead and wield our family sword, Crystal.’

‘Those should go to your brother.’

‘It is my choice to make, and I had decided on this long ago. I fully intended to treat you as my child when I married your mother.’

‘But it is not fair to you!’

‘I beg to differ. I am rather proud to call you my son and sad that you are reacting this way.’

‘But what about your own children?’

He hesitated. Ashara and he had both deflected Daeron’s requests for a sibling for years, and now seemed as good a time as any to tell him. _No more lies, only truths no matter how bitter._

‘Your mother had some complications in childbirth. The Maester’s confirmed that it is unlikely she will ever have children.’

‘But then it my fau—‘

‘I have said this before Daeron and I will say it again! You were the only good thing that came out of that revolution. I have absolutely no regrets and would have married your mother even if she could never have children due to other reasons!’

‘It is not fair,’ and he actually pouted.

‘Life isn’t, we must simply do the best we can. And I got a good deal at the end of it, getting to call you my son.’

‘I may never say it, Father-but I am really glad to have you too!’ cried the boy as he ran into his arms.

They stood that way for long, hugging each other and trying to absorb the grief. Finally Daeron gave a gentle tug and he released him.

‘I am sorry for causing trouble and for doubting you, Father,’ he said, bowing down.

‘I would have done the same, so there is nothing to forgive. Just forgive me for thinking you would not take it well. Run down and speak with your mother now, she is worried sick.’

Daeron moved over to the stairs, his silver hair glistening. He hesitated for a moment, with his hands on the knob.

‘What is it?’

‘Was my father a Targaryen?’

‘No, and I can confirm this much. Your silver hair came from House Dayne.’

He nodded, and before asking a final question. ‘Was my fat- _sire_ on the other side of the revolution?’

‘Yes. We all had to make difficult choices then, ones many of us are still unable to live through.’

Daeron nodded as if some long lost puzzle piece fell into place and left. Alyn then collapsed onto the bed, wearied by stress.

* * *

 

_Kings Landing, 292 AL_

POV: Petyr Baelish.

‘Petyr!’ she cried, as she ran to hug him.

He awkwardly returned the embrace. ‘Hello Lysa, how have things been?’

Apparently that was her cue to burst into tears and rant about her misfortune. ‘I miscarried a-a-again, Petyr! This is the sixth time, and everyone is judging me.’

 _Well, your mother had her share of misfortunes too, before she fell to the birthing bed._ Aloud, he said ‘You’ll be alright. Your sister hasn’t had many issues-she has what, four children now?’

Mentioning Catelyn was perhaps not the smartest move as it set the waterworks going again. He awkwardly hugged her and patted her back in a vain effort to comfort the girl.

‘Father said so too!,’ she said crying out. ‘He told me that I would be cast aside if I did not produce an heir for Lord Arryn! And even if Jon does not set me aside, what will happen to me if he dies without a son?’

 _Be left at the mercy of your father, brother or the new Vale Lord._ ‘Hush sweetling, don’t worry so much. It is certainly not your fault alone. Lord Arryn has been married twice without issue before, and he is an old man.’

‘Father killed him, Petyr! Our b—‘

‘Walls too have ears, Lysa-be silent! However I do see a way around your predicament.’

‘What is it Petyr?’, she whispered, moving her face closer.

He whispered into her ear-‘Only the mother is certain’, before kissing her full on.

* * *

 

Their liaison lasted for two weeks, as Lord Arryn’s satisfaction with his work at Gulltown allowed him to stay longer than originally intended, and gauge the politics of Kings Landing. He suspected the Hand’s troubles with Finances would see him permanently relocate as Master of Coin.

_Fools run the place, except maybe that eunuch. A smart man can take over with ease._

The Princes and the Princess looked pure Lannister too, and that started to give him some ideas. He had read about the Dance of the Dragons and the supposed Strong bastards. _Maybe the Queen is sleeping with someone else?_ Possible of course, Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella looked nothing like Mya Stone who he had seen in the Eyrie. _Only the mother is certain,_ he thought quietly, just as he had told Lysa. Irrespective of their parentage, rumors had the potential to cause trouble-as no one could see Baratheon in their faces. _Chaos that I can use to my advantage._

 _But for whose benefit? The Targaryens are gone, and Velaryon does not seem to care, wasting Braavos._ Even if he did, he had no desire to make a man with the reputation of Alyn Velaryon King. He would be thanked no doubt, and then be kept under constant observation for the slightest misstep. Stannis too would be much the same, probably more likely to chop his head off after the coronation. _And should Joffrey become King…._

Tywin Lannister would return to being Hand, and deceiving that man represented a much greater risk. _No, it would have to be Renly who is still too young. The others will have to be removed slowly._

It had to be slow, for Robert could still sire children. _Nothing substantial to be done before he dies, only making foundations._

 _Besides, Robert cannot die for a while-it is easier to steal under his nose than anyone else’s._ No, Robert Baratheon could not die, and the Queen’s secret (if it was truly so) should remain for a while longer.

He laughed silently. He had come here to steal the Vale from the Arryns, and now it seemed like he was going to get a much bigger role than that. _I will have to ask Lysa to see that her husband makes me Master of Coins._ Lord Arryn could then be removed-not killed outright, Lysa could not manage the Vale alone, for a small child. But there were many poisons that paralyzed and caused partial damage. _A few years, and the time shall come to use one of those. Ned Stark will then be made Hand, and Catelyn will come here. Stark will try to defend his friend’s children and King Renly will have to execute him, but his wife and children will be spared at my own intervention._ It was a good start of a plan, as he was sure a lot of re-adjustments would be needed once he was actually working from site. _However, Robert’s bastards in the City will have to be secured by then, to be produced at the right moment and Stannis eliminated. It will take quite some time to work it out. Minimal chaos, maximum impact._

* * *

 

_284 AL, Rhoyne_

POV: Septa Lemore

Septa Lemore glanced at the moonlit river, remembering her time in Braavos. _It was good there and no one asked too many questions._ Braavos was where she had fled after her dishonor, hoping no one would ask too many questions. And no one did, until the Spider came.

She turned back to look at the silver haired boy. _Soon, very soon._ That boy will be the King of the Seven Kingdoms in a few years, and what rewards were too great for her then, as his faithful servant?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We enter canon from next chapter onwards. Enough of the past.
> 
> If anyone is wondering what the Littlefinger connection to Braavos is, his father's family was from Braavos.


End file.
